


Interruptions

by howterrifying



Category: Molliarty - Fandom, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, molliarty - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-11
Updated: 2018-05-11
Packaged: 2019-05-05 10:22:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14616306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/howterrifying/pseuds/howterrifying
Summary: Molly Hooper is made to face a stunning revelation about Jim Moriarty, but it is her reaction that stuns him most.





	Interruptions

**Author's Note:**

> I was thinking recently how I simply hadn’t written in ages and nothing pushed me to start on it again. Well, Christina Aguilera's Twice showed up in my life today and suddenly, I had to write Molliarty. I’d always written about them skirting over the fact that he was a criminal mastermind. I decided it was time to see what happened when Molly was faced with the truth of Jim Moriarty. So this is what happened. x

**Interruptions**  
  
  
It was not the first time Molly Hooper had been interrupted at work by the secret service and whisked off to a secret office to meet with Mycroft Holmes. En route to the unknown location du jour, Molly considered what Mycroft might be calling her in for. Another _‘not dead’_ dead body she had to process, maybe. Or perhaps more complicated bloodwork reports she had to help decipher.   
  
“Ah, Molly. Thank you for coming.”  
  
Molly had arrived sooner than she had expected. They must have remained within London then.   
  
“You didn’t _actually_ ask but…”  
“I am grateful, nevertheless, for your presence,” Mycroft interjected, gesturing politely to two sets of armchairs where they were to sit. “There are some urgent matters that warrant your attention.”  
“ _My_ attention?” said Molly with a small laugh. “O-kay.”  
  
Mycroft turned to his decanter of whisky on a table by his side and offered to pour Molly some to which she politely declined.   
  
“So,” she asked, settling into her leather armchair, “What am I here for?”  
“It pains me slightly to say that, of late, you’ve become a person of interest.”  
“What?” Molly asked, her right eyebrow raised slightly.   
  
Molly could not tell where he had taken it from but all of a sudden there was a slim manila folder in Mycroft’s hands. As he handed them to her, Molly could smell how brand-new it was. The paper was still crisp and its edges, sharp.   
  
“Oh my god,” she whispered, only to inhale sharply as she flipped through various photographs of her and Jim Moriarty in various parts of London – and in various parts of the world.   
  
“Why are there photos of me and my— Jim is…from work,” said Molly, finally looking up at Mycroft.  
“James Moriarty,” Mycroft began, “has been a person of interest for a _very_ long time.”  
“When you say _person of interest_ —”  
“Molly…” Mycroft interrupted gently. “You and I have worked together long enough. You _know_ what I mean when I say, _person of interest_.”   
  
Carefully, Molly shut the folder and decided to take her time positioning it in the middle of her lap.   
  
“You know what my next question is, I suppose,” Molly remarked, surprised at how calm she had remained.   
“You might need a drink if I were to answer it,” Mycroft said, gesturing once more to the whisky on the table.  
“Try me,” Molly answered with a glint in her eye.   
  
With a quiet sigh, Mycroft drew Molly’s attention to a television screen mounted on the wall before them.   
  
“Are you ready for this?” asked Mycroft.  
“I’ve seen a lot of things, Mycroft,” answered Molly sharply. “I can stomach more than you can imagine.”  
  
Perhaps Molly had been slightly overconfident, but she was not wrong. The scenes of crime and other horrors played out before her like a montage of all the world’s greatest transgressions. This had been James Moriarty’s case file but none of it fazed her. Like she had said, she could stomach it all. What Molly had not considered, however, was what it would do to her conscience – and more excruciatingly, what it would do to her heart.   
  
::  
  
Mycroft was not the only one with secret offices and vaults scattered about the city. James Moriarty had his fair share of hidden locations and safe houses he operated from. It was in one of these offices tucked away that Jim had received the horrifying notification that Molly had been taken.   
  
“Are you sure it was Mycroft?” Jim exclaimed, almost shouting into the phone.   
  
The confirmation from his peon at the other end of the line greatly displeased him. He slammed his phone onto his desk, only to swipe it off angrily the next second.   
  
“Damn. _You_. Mycroft Holmes.” Jim hissed between clenched teeth. He knew it was only a matter of time that the niggling British government would interfere but it angered him nonetheless.   
  
Jim fell back into his chair, leaned back and brought his hands up to his eyes.   
  
_What do I do? What should I do? What will I do?_   
  
Different versions of the same question plagued his mind like an angry ghost.   
  
“I just…I just have to tell her,” he whispered rapidly to himself as he finally removed his hands from his eyes. He chuckled to himself and shook his head. Resignation was not pleasant, but it was all he had now.   
  
“I just have to tell her.”   
  
::  
  
It took some time before Molly realised Mycroft had been talking to her. The culmination of all of Jim’s sins (to date) that she had just been privy to was still taking its toll on her. How could all of this have been Jim? Molly had asked herself this at first. Slowly, however, little moments within her memories of their time together began to whisper a new question—how had she _not_ seen it? She had seen and _felt_ it all— his fearlessness, his theatrics, his blasé, unflinching approach towards the unknown and most of all, his _danger_. Her conscience had expected her to recoil, but her heart had chosen to burst into flames and it caused her eyes to sparkle. It caused her to smile.   
  
“Molly?”  
“Hmm? Oh. Sorry…”  
“I need your decision. Now, preferably,” repeated Mycroft for the umpteenth time.   
“Well, seeing as you now have a file on _me_ ,” she began, rising from her seat.  
  
Molly strode past Mycroft and headed straight for the exit, placing a confident hand over its elaborate brass doorknob.   
  
“You might as well continue it,” she continued with a smirk. “At least you’ll still know where to find me.”  
“Molly, I urge you to reconsider. You do not realise the weight of your deci—”  
“Nothing changes, Mycroft,” Molly interjected sharply, “Just more paperwork for you, perhaps.”  
“Molly—”  
“Goodbye, Mycroft.”   
  
::  
  
Molly was relieved the unexpected meeting with Mycroft still allowed her to be on time for dinner with Jim. Using the shiny surface of her phone screen, Molly stole a quick glance to check her reflection before stepping out of one of Jim’s cars she had been riding in. Her heart was racing slightly as the pressure built in her chest from the weight of everything she had witnessed today.   
  
In a private dining space on the roof of what had now become one of their favourite restaurants, Jim sat restlessly in his seat, just short of wringing his hands from worry.   
  
_Just tell her. Everything._ _  
  
_ The thought ate away at Jim like a worm in the centre of an apple. Jim did not appreciate the fear that ran through his veins. Yes, he had finally acknowledged that it _was_ fear. The fear he felt now had overtaken each and every tiny anxiety he might have had in all his time with Molly. Would she like the coffee they were going to have in Italy? Would the jet be too much? Was the necklace too morbid? All these seemed like jokes now. He succumbed to a sigh and his restlessness ceased.   
  
“If she goes—” Jim paused, as if to flinch. “Then she does.”   
  
To his delight and momentary relief, he heard Molly’s voice as she called out to him. He got up from his seat and moved to welcome her as she stepped into his open arms, leaning with a grateful sigh against his shirt.   
  
“Darling,” she whispered.   
  
That word, and the way she said it, was always Jim’s undoing. What natural aversion he had to tenderness would cease to exist. Tonight, however, it shocked him.   
  
Jim knew now that Molly knew who he was, _what_ he was, and her choice of words shook him.   
  
“ _Darling_?” he asked quietly.   
  
Molly chuckled against his shirt before looking up to kiss him, smiling in satisfaction against his mouth. When she pulled away, Molly could not help but smirk in amusement at his wide, almost anxious eyes. In the eyes of the world, Jim Moriarty might have been a monster, but Molly knew that he too was human.   
  
“Molly, I—” Jim began. He knew that if he did not start now, he might never be able to tell her.   
“I know, Jim,” Molly said, silencing him with two fingers to his lips, “I know.”  
  
Jim stared hard at Molly, biding his time to really study her. It was impossible to know what she was thinking. Perhaps that was the problem, that she simply had not thought about it.    
  
“Shouldn’t you at least think twice?” Jim asked, trying to stand apart from her but not bearing to completely let go.   
  
Her bell-like laughter responded for her.   
  
“What for?” she answered, with a smile.  
  
That smile of hers. Another of Jim’s undoing. For a moment, Jim regretted all of his atrocities, knowing that they were the very things that could rob him of ever seeing that smile again, but he was snapped out of his thoughts by Molly taking his hand and leading him back to their seats at their table. When Molly saw how stunned Jim still seemed to be, she reached for his hand and wrapped her fingers tightly around it.   
  
“I’ve had enough interruptions for one day, Jim Moriarty,” said Molly, leaning to kiss him lightly on the cheek. “Now find me some wine before I fly off to Saint-Émilion myself.”  
  
Jim stared back at her, studying the way the light danced in the centres of her shining eyes and just like that, the light in his own eyes returned. He moved to kiss her, his heart—yes, his heart— bursting, as the fear slowly left his veins. He then took her hand in his and raced them both back to the waiting car below.   
  
“Then Saint-Émilion it is,” Jim remarked, beaming as Molly laughed while the car sped them off.  
  
Molly moved to rest her head against Jim’s shoulder, which caused him to turn and kiss her softly on the top of her head. Just moments ago, Jim was convinced this was all going to be over. Just moments ago, Mycroft had certainly encouraged Molly to head in that direction and Molly was nearly convinced she would have.  
  
Everyone was wrong.     
  
If this did not stop them, then nothing would stop them now. 

  
**END**


End file.
